Chapter 9
1215 Words
Kennedy’s POV
The party was louder than I expected. Bonfire flames crackled high into the night sky, casting everyone in a golden haze. The beach was packed with sweaty bodies, flashing lights, and that familiar scent of weed, ocean air, and cheap beer.
Marty was already dancing, her tiny frame swaying with the music, and Finn was off near the speakers making a scene in the best way possible. I stood awkwardly near the edge of the crowd, arms crossed, silently regretting the outfit they shoved me into.
Red crop top. Black shorts. My thighs felt too exposed. My stomach too bare. I kept tugging the fabric like it would magically grow longer. But then—
“Kennedy?”
I froze.
That voice.
I turned my head, heart thudding. And there he was.
Liam Carson.
The most popular guy in school. Quarterback. Prom prince. Every girl’s dream. Including mine.
Since the third grade.
He was taller than I remembered, broader too. His blond hair was a little messy like he’d just come from the ocean, and his tanned skin made his white T-shirt glow. His eyes—blue like the sky on a perfect day—were on me.
Me.
“Hey,” he said again, flashing a crooked grin. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Yeah…” My voice cracked. I cleared my throat. “My friends dragged me.”
He stepped closer. Close enough that I could smell his cologne. “Glad they did. You look… wow.”
My cheeks flushed instantly.
Is this happening?
All those years—watching him from afar, writing his name in my journals like a stupid cliché, praying for just one moment—and now here he was, complimenting me?
“Thanks,” I said softly.
“So…” He scratched the back of his neck. “You wanna walk down the beach for a sec? Away from all the noise?”
My heart jumped. My mouth said “Sure,” before my brain could catch up.
The sand was cool beneath my bare feet as we walked, just far enough from the music for it to become a dull thump behind us.
Liam glanced over, smirking. “You always this quiet?”
I gave a breathy laugh. “Only when I’m nervous.”
He stopped. Turned to face me. “Why are you nervous?”
“Because…” I hesitated, voice soft. “You’ve never talked to me before.”
He stepped closer, eyes scanning my face. “Guess I was an i***t then.”
His hand brushed my arm, light and slow. I sucked in a sharp breath.
Is this actually happening?
He leaned forward, his mouth just inches from mine.
Then—
“She’s not interested.”
The voice cut through the air like a knife.
I jerked back.
Liam turned, visibly annoyed. “Yo, what the hell man—”
Dominic.
Leaning casually against a palm tree, arms crossed over his chest, jaw tense. The firelight caught on the edges of his sharp features, his muscles taut beneath his black T-shirt.
“I said,” Dominic repeated, stepping forward, “She’s not interested.”
Liam let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “You her bodyguard or something?”
“Something like that.”
I found my voice. “Dominic, what are you—”
“Just checking on my stepsister,” he said, drawing out the word like it meant something else entirely. His eyes never left Liam. “She looked uncomfortable.”
Liam scoffed. “She didn’t look uncomfortable to me.”
That was all it took.
Dominic’s jaw flexed, and in two strides, he was face to face with him. “You should go, now, before I make you.”
For a second, I thought Liam might push back—but something about the way Dominic stood there, calm but coiled with tension, made him think twice.
Liam raised both hands. “Whatever, dude. Not worth it.” He glanced at me, disappointed. “Later, Kennedy.”
I said nothing.
I couldn’t.
As soon as he disappeared back down the beach, I turned toward Dominic, my heart racing, the fire from earlier replaced with pure anger now.
“What the hell was that?!”
He shrugged like it was nothing. “You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t ask for you to play knight-in-shining-whatever!”
“He was going to kiss you,” he said, voice tight.
“I know!” I snapped. “That’s the whole point!”
His jaw tensed, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “Wearing that and talking to guys like him—what the hell do you think he wanted? A conversation about college essays?”
My eyes narrowed. “What’s your problem with what I’m wearing?”
He stepped closer. “It’s not just the outfit. It’s the fact that you don’t see it. That guy wanted one thing.”
I crossed my arms. “And how would you know?”
There was a flicker in his eyes. Too fast for him to stop it.
“Because…” He paused, then muttered under his breath, “Because the same thing’s on my mind.”
Silence.
My breath caught.
“What?” I asked, voice low, guarded.
He shook his head quickly. “Nothing. Forget it. Let’s go. You’re going home.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” He grabbed my arm—not rough, but firm—and started leading me away from the water.
“Let go of me,” I growled.
“Not until we’re out of here.”
“God, you’re such an asshole! You don’t get to control what I do or who I talk to!”
“I’m trying to protect you!” he barked back.
“From what? Living my life?”
He didn’t answer.
By the time we reached his Camaro, he opened the passenger door, practically guided me in, and slammed it shut before storming around to the driver’s side and sliding in with a frustrated sigh.
I crossed my arms, refusing to look at him.
The tension inside the car was unbearable. Thick. Tight.
I could feel him glancing at me from the corner of his eye.
After a few minutes of silence, he finally muttered, “Oh stop being such a baby. It’s not like it was going to be your first kiss or something.”
I shifted slightly.
I don’t know why. Maybe my body flinched.
But it was enough.
Because he let out a slow, amused chuckle.
“Oh my God...” he said, laughing now. “It would have been, wouldn’t it?”
My cheeks burned.
I looked out the window, saying nothing.
He kept laughing.
“Wow. You should be thanking me for saving your first kiss from that tool.”
I blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears from falling.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
But one slipped down anyway.
I wiped it fast, hoping he didn’t notice.
But of course, he did.
The laughter stopped.
“Hey…” His voice softened. “I was just kidding, Princess.”
I didn’t look at him. I cleared my throat and mumbled, “Whatever.”
He didn’t say anything after that.
And neither did I.
- Writer
